Pure
by Misty H
Summary: Quatre searches to find the innocence he feels he has lost.


Greetings! Once again, I have been inspired to write another GW fic! Plus I got a few replies on my story Fragmented, so I wanted to see what you guys make of this one. ^_^ Well, anyway, this is a Quatre fic and it's angst and I don't think it's very good at all....*sigh*  
Warnings: A naked, wet, depressed Quatre sitting all alone, in a bathtub...*grins in amusement as Q-fans begin drooling*  
Notes: Around the time Quatre and Heero return to the Earth together, after Heero's episode in Wing Zero.  
Disclaimers: I don't own the characters. Please don't sue me, I'm a poor pathetic student. You creator dudes know how much I love you! ^_~  
  
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Hot steam rises from the thin metallic basin that I am using as a makeshift tub. However, all I can do is sit here and watch it rise. The water is so peaceful, so undisturbed and pure. Just like I should be. Just like everyone thinks I am.  
  
How I long to be that innocent, the way the world seems to see me as. Of course, most of the world doesn't know I pilot a Gundam. They only see the snapshots in the glossy magazines and news reports of a sweet, golden-haired teenage boy who is heir to his father's vast estate. They don't know that I go out and kill, that my hands overflow with the bloodstains of too many lives.  
  
Water is not something I usually sit and watch. I don't associate water with pureness, normally. But for some reason I am in a strange mood today. I cannot begin to describe the feelings that flow through my very soul. I can only hope that I can name them.  
  
I touch the surface of the water gently. It ripples around my fingers, creating a small bond. A link, you might say, to the pureness of my dreams. I snatch my hand back. I have stolen so many people's dreams, so many people's lives, that I have no right to achieve mine. I just want...I can't want, I can't have. Pity, isn't it? The richest boy in the entire universe, and all he wants is peace of mind and to be innocent. Irony is so bitter.  
  
I am wasting time though. I have to hurry and bathe, so that Heero can have a break. He's been up and moving since he regained consciousness. He refuses to sleep, barely eats, and of course, Allah forbid he speak. Something is bothering him, I can feel it. I can't identify what it is though. I sense so many emotions from his troubled heart. I hope that when I am finished bathing, I can convince him to do the same. Maybe it'll help him relax some.  
  
I remove my pants, having already stripped of my shirt. The garment falls on the floor, followed by socks and underwear. I stand naked in the cooler recesses of the tent. I shiver. If only I didn't feel so dirty...  
  
My gun is placed right next to my side, directly under my hand. I sink slowly into the heated water. Its warmth seems to burn me at first, and I welcome the pain. Gradually I get used to the temperature. My flesh is an angry red, and I smile absently at the sight of it. Good. I need to be hurt for what I have done.  
  
I feel so lost, so alone. Trowa was real, tangible, something I needed. It has been so long since anything felt real to me. And I killed him. I destroy everything around me. I destroy everyone around me..  
  
Heero's real to me. Duo is too, and Wufei. I can feel their pain, their emotions. I can relate to them, I can understand them. Perhaps I can come to love them. Or maybe I already do? They seem so close in heart, in spirit, to me. Like we were all carried in the same womb, shared the same breath. But we didn't, which is why these feelings tend to overwhelm and baffle me. Which is why they amaze me.  
  
I gaze absently into the transparent little waves that roll off the side of the tub. I have disturbed the sereneness of this small area. I sigh and draw my legs up tighter to my body, wrapping my thin, pale arms around the scrawny limbs. My chin finds it's usual spot on my left knee, and I rub the edge of it on my wet skin. I can feel my mind drifting off, and I know it's time for memory lane.  
  
My eyes close against the pain, against the onslaught of tears that seek release. My father's angry voice echoes hollowly in my mind, his disappointment and loathing seeping through. This is the first time I have had to think, to dwell on his death. I believe he loved me, but he put the colony and its people first. He wanted to make me into what he envisioned for me to be. I don't think he ever understood that I could not be him.  
  
And...I blew up a colony. Or was it more? Heero refuses to tell me exactly how much damage I caused. Either way, I killed innocent people. People who were living there to be near husbands, brothers, sons. And then I killed those soldiers too. How horrible...horrible doesn't even begin to describe me. It's just a weak word that means nothing. Empty words...empty words for an empty soul.  
  
If only that were so! Then I would not feel this lingering pain, this lingering torment of emotions. I wish I could be like Heero! He doesn't have to feel anything at all. He can turn his emotions on and off, ignoring them at will. My emotions are always before me. My guilt is always before me.  
  
If there was one emotion that should be banished forever, it would be guilt. I am so sick and pathetic. I have only my guilt to wrap myself up in. I failed Trowa, I failed my father, I failed the colonies, the doctors, my family, the Maguanacs...what would my mother say if she were here? My hands clinch into fists. I glare at them hatefully. Weak little fists! Weak little boy who knows nothing! I can do nothing, NOTHING, but cause suffering and anguish! I cause so much pain and grief, wherever I go. Wherever I go...  
  
I open my dry, itchy eyes and stare down at the water pooled around me. I don't even know how long I've been sitting in here, but it must've been quite a while, from the looks of my toes. I let one arm drop into the water to touch them, to trace the tiny wrinkles. A blank, half-smile forms on my face. The water is cooler now, but still slightly warm. And it is dirty.  
  
I laugh softly to myself. It's an ugly laugh, full of self-loathing and disgust. I have made the pure water, the clear, clean, sweet water that I so admired only minutes ago, dirty. My filth has contaminated it, just like I contaminate the rest of the world. I sneer at my feet, until I was suddenly startled by the tent flap hitting against the canvas. I know I secured it. I turn my head up, my mouth still twisted hideously.  
  
Heero stood there in the doorway, facing me. His face was carefully blank, as usual. I don't know why, but the sight of him causes the rims of my eyes to fill with tears. The rest of my vision remains clear though, so I have no problem tracking his movements as he shuts the flap and steps toward me. I instantly tense as he steps toward me, his movements graceful and efficient. He stops when he reaches the side of the tub and knells beside the cooling metallic basin.  
  
I stare deeply into the eyes of the Perfect Soldier, and suddenly I gain some insight. Perhaps, the others are looking at the wrong person to be innocent. The one that appears the most ruthless and deadly among us; perhaps he is the one that they need to be looking to for a pure heart. I look at the young boy, the little boy trapped in a lethal war, a child trapped in a teenager's body, and I suddenly wish I was like him. I wish I was innocent.  
  
I don't know how he understands my thoughts at this moment, but somehow, his tired mind must be following the obvious trail my mind is taking. A rough hand grasps my pale shoulder, and suddenly the Perfect Soldier lets loose all those emotions he must keep bottled up somewhere. His face is transformed immediately into concern and understanding. And he speaks the most beautiful words I have ever heard.  
  
"You're forgiven, Quatre. You're innocent again."  
  
My mouth hangs open as my reeling mind tries to steady itself. Shudders rack my body in waves; he doesn't understand the magnitude of what he has said. Can he possibly comprehend the meaning of those six words? Can he grasp the significance of what he has just done?  
  
My eyes meet his again, and I realize that I am wrong. He is not as innocent as I thought or emotionless as he pretends to be. He is hurting too; he feels the pain, the tearing agony in his heart, mind, and soul, the same as I do. And finally, finally, the dams break.  
  
I cry on his shoulder, naked and dripping water all over his tank top, for all the hurt that I had been through in my life, for all the heartache I had suffered, for the rejection that faced us all from the very ones we were giving up our lives to protect. I sob out all my worries for peace, for the lives of those few precious others who piloted Gundams, for all who had went through any kind of hardship during the war.  
  
I am innocent again.  



End file.
